THE RAT PACK
FEB 8 – FEB 26, 2006

LOS ANGELES TIMES
Los Angeles, California

LOS ANGELES TIMES
February 16, 2006

THEATRE REVIEW

When Dino walked the Earth

Vegas’ “Rat Pack” returns with a new Sammy to take pals’ barbs.

By DARYL H. MILLER
Times Staff Writer

Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr. embodied a tuxedo-clad, Vitalis-smoothed, bourbon-soaked sense of style that, four decades later, continues to fascinate Americans old and young. What's more, those guys really knew their way around a tune. The lushly sung, richly orchestrated recordings they left behind remain a vital part of the nation's soundtrack.

All of which explains the built-in interest of Direct From Vegas ... The Rat Pack, which re-creates the singers' legendary performances of the early 1960s. Two years after an engagement at the Kodak Theatre, the show has returned as part of Civic Light Opera of South Bay Cities' programming, with Martin-channeler Steve Apple, the show's producer-director, once again joined by Gary Corsello as Sinatra but with Dezhon Fields now portraying Davis.

They launch the show with a joint rendition of “Luck Be a Lady” trading off verses while a horn-heavy 12-man band blasts a sound as hot as desert air.

The setting, of course, is the pack's performance hangout: The Sands. The onstage backdrop is more suggestive than specific, however, with photos of Frank, Dean and Sammy framing a collage of period Vegas images.

Evoking a typical night in the hotel's Copa Room, the performers swap songs and pepper one another with slightly risqué, boys-will-be-boys gibes and jokes. (Neither Peter Lawford nor Joey Bishop makes an appearance, so the big three have the stage to themselves.)

Apple simulates Martin's smooth croon of a voice in such signature numbers as “Ain't That a Kick in the Head?” and Corsello in such tunes as “Come Fly With Me” captures Sinatra's focused, resonant sound along with his ability to make lyrics sound breezily conversational yet richly dramatic.

As for Fields…well, he effectively captures Davis' dynamism — the ability to make his voice dance and his feet sing. At Sunday's matinee, though, he overshot a number of pitches, eliciting shivers of something other than delight.

Between songs, Davis is the recipient of much ribbing. His sexuality is challenged, his height mocked. (In one famous gag, he's given a milkmaid stool to sit on while Martin and Sinatra get grown-up models.) But, hey, that's what passed for humor among these quipsters.

Fortunately, come what may, the band, led by trumpeter Scott Strecker, keeps the music swinging, jumping and cha-cha-ing — providing the big sound that made the era so enjoyable to listen to.

Audiences entering this time machine are likely to come away entertained and satisfied. But let's be honest: This is a kitschy, plastic, take-home-souvenir of the past. Nowadays, Las Vegas is hijacking the hot new musicals, like “Avenue Q" and “Spamalot." Let's hope that doesn't leave Los Angeles having to reheat what was sizzling half a lifetime ago.